


In the Belly of the Bus

by toucanpie



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 13:26:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1094376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toucanpie/pseuds/toucanpie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of snapshots from the team's first few months together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Belly of the Bus

**Author's Note:**

  * For [myystic (neoinean)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neoinean/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide!

**JUN 5th 2013 // DETROIT // MISSION CODE: T3J7SS8**

 

"What is this?" Grant said, staring at a 4x3 container with a dinosaur face on it. "Did you just have me run through heavy fire to pick up some -- is this a lunchbox?"

"No, silly, it just looks like a lunchbox," Simmons said in his ear. "Inside is a miniature wetsuit and a small respiratory device disguised as a juice carton."

Grant could hear a faint screech of tires through the phone, followed by a yelp, but knowing they were on their way didn't help when his magazine was half empty and his resource drop was literal child's play.

"And what am I supposed to do with a fake juice box and a mini wetsuit?"

"Well it's not for you, is it. Can you put Aidan on the phone, please?"

"Aidan is twelve years old."

"Aidan doesn't ask stupid questions."

"Aidan is not old enough to - alright, fine."

He removed his headset and gave it to the small child standing next to him. 

"It's for you," he said.

\--

"I can't believe he had to go back to his parents. I so wanted to meet Aidan," Fitz said, scraping pieces off Grant's burnt flak vest into a dish. "He sounded like such a great little guy."

"Yeah, he threw grenades like a champ," Grant groused, pulling off the remainder of his gloves. The knuckles beneath were a nice mixture of ash and blood. Still moveable, but stiff and numb like plastic. He was going to have to lay off the punching bags for a while or Simmons would come after him with a clipboard.

"Who knew pre-teens were so familiar with military ballistics," Coulson said, his head tilted in contemplation. "Is that what we're teaching in middle school now?"

"Nah, just on _Call of Duty_ ," Skye said, swinging her feet back and forth. "Hey Ward, do you think we still need you if a twelve year old can do your job?"

He rolled his eyes to stop anything like a smile coming out. Fourteen blocks at a sprint. Five separate charges to lay. Twenty odd civilians to get clear.

"You want to take the next one, be my guest."

She gave him an exaggerated thumbs up and then slipped on a pair of infra-red goggles. He opened his mouth to tell her what they'd been used for last, then stopped.

"You know that could be a legitimate question," Simmons said. "There might well be some things that Aidan could do for us that Ward can't. For example, regenerative rates are better in children so Aidan would probably heal faster."

"Yeah, and think of all the small spaces he could hide in like a little lethal ninja."

"Thanks, Skye."

"And he'd consume less. I mean looking at it from a budget point of view we wouldn't have to order so much protein powder or eat so much chicken."

"I don't even like -"

"Alright, enough," Melinda cut in, pointing at Skye and then Simmons. "Out. Essential personnel only."

"Yeah, go to your rooms and think about what you've done," Fitz called after them, grinning.

Melinda rounded on him. "And you."

"Okay, fine," Fitz groaned. "Taking my residue back to the lab, going into silent mode, no more jokes at anyone's expense. Whatever."

Five seconds later the door slid closed. Grant tipped his gaze up to the ceiling and studied the tiles there while he clicked his neck back to normal. When he dropped his head down again Melinda was watching him, amused.

"You alright?" she asked.

"Fine."

"Really?"

"A little bruised, the usual."

"Wait," Coulson said. "Am I the only one who's counting bandages in three separate places here?"

Grant heaved himself off the bench and tested his wrapped ankle. The shooting pain was still in evidence but it was good enough to walk on.

"I'll just have a protein shake and then I'll be fine, right?"

Melinda rolled her eyes and passed him his holster.

"They only make fun of you because they're fond of you."

"Is this the part where I'm meant to say I'm fond of them too?"

"Probably," Coulson said, clapping him on the back as he went past. Grant winced. "Get some rest. I'll let you know if we get attacked by a horde of toddlers or the Powerpuff Girls need your help."

"Great," Grant said. "Thank you, sir."

\--

**JUL 22ND 2013 // 2304 HRS // THE BAR ON THE BUS**

 

"And after that he asked me whether I wanted to go have a drink with him in his underground lair!" Simmons spluttered, hands raised in indignation. "It was like I was actually in a spy film but he was a million times creepier than your average Bond villain. Plus he didn't even have a cat. Or a monocle. I was quite disappointed."

"We should make you some shoes with hidden knives in the toes," Fitz said, sending the bottle sliding across to the bar to her. "The mechanism would be incredibly simple. We wouldn't even need to dose the blade in poison. We could just use the dendrotoxin from the Night Night Gun."

He could even put more than one formula in. Left foot could be trip to Nod, right could deal something nastier, then small click of the heels and the whole set exploded! Or not because that would be the end of Jemma's feet and she probably wouldn't forgive him.

"Oh god, Fitz, what is this?" Jemma said, staring at the shot glass and squirming in displeasure. "It's horrible. And shoes are all very well, but if we're going for Bond references, I'd rather have an exploding watch. Or some dashing agent taking diamonds out of my bellybutton with his mouth."

"Yeah, I suppose I could see that," Fitz said generously. "Might have to substitute Agent Hand for your dashing hero, of course. And she'd probably have to have a sexy Russian accent. Trying to get me to give up S.H.I.E.L.D. secrets but I wouldn't budge while she was still working for the enemy unit."

Jemma put the glass down. "What do you mean, 'the enemy unit'? And why would she want you to give up S.H.I.E.L.D. secrets? She already knows way more than you."

"Stop ruining the fantasy. Why would some hero want to eat diamonds out of your navel?"

"He wouldn't eat them. He'd just put them in his mouth for awhile and then we'd -- oh stop it, it's not meant to make sense."

Fitz reached the bottle and poured them both another shot.

"The moonbuggy from _Diamonds Are Forever_ ," he said, just to test the waters.

"Oh definitely," Simmons said. "I mean it could even be practical. With you know, a few small modifications for non-lunar terrains."

"We could make May some Jaws teeth."

"I could match them to a custom dental plate, maybe even use some kind of organic material."

"I could increase their crushing power. While keeping them lightweight and durable, naturally."

They clinked glasses.

"We could call them the Autoincisors," he said.

"The Metalmouth!"

"The Chop Chop Teeth!"

She gave him one of her looks.

"No Fitz," she said. "No."

\--

**SEP 15TH 2013 // 1624 HOURS // TEXAS // MISSION CODE: Y74I9K5**

 

"Whatcha doing?" Skye asked, leaning over to peek at Fitz's screen.

"Oh, inputting some of the things I observed when we were in the field." He waved a notebook she'd seen him carrying earlier. "I type it up so then I can sync it pronto when we get back to the bus."

"Cool," Skye said, nodding slowly. "I'm not gonna be able to understand any of it, am I?"

"Well, maybe, I don't know. How are you on thermodynamics?"

"It starts with a 't' and ends in an 's'?"

"Yeah, quite like tyrannosaurus in that regard then, actually." Fitz said. "Oh, hey, I didn't realise you had a tattoo."

Skye snorted. "Excuse me?"

"You have a -- actually, is that my name tattooed on your arm? "

"What?"

Skye pulled up the sleeve her was pointing to in alarm.

"That was so not there earlier," she said, looking at the weird smeary mess on her bicep. "Weird. But It looks more like a squiggly thing than a name."

"No, that is definitely my name. And - ooh, is that a heart, Miss Skye?"

"What, no." She tugged down her sleeve as far as it would go, then pulled it back to have another look. 

"Where did this come from? Wait, is that sharpie? Did you just sharpie your name on my arm while I was sleeping?"

"Of course not," Fitz said. "Why would I do that when you clearly already have?"

"I -- what? You think I did this?"

"I see no other logical explanation."

"You see no other -" she hit across the chest with her outstretched arm. He was such a liar. "I can't believe you didn't even stretch for pink."

"You mean you can't believe you didn't stretch for pink."

"Stop it."

"When you drew that beautiful little homage to me. Oh, and also that poem on the back of your neck."

"That -- the what? Oh my god."

She swivelled on the bench only to realise that wouldn't let her see the back of her neck. 

"Why are there no mirrors in here? No, scratch that, why would you write poetry on my neck?" She pressed her hand against her neck and checked it for ink residue. "Fitz, I thought you were cool."

"I am cool. Very cool. So cool that I just made you look for something that totally isn't there."

She groaned and then hit him again.

"Loser," she said, rubbing at her neck again just in case.

He made a series of injured noises then grinned like a loser and went back to his tablet.

Skye sighed and went back to staring across the aisle. She managed a whole two minutes in silence before she had to break it again. 

"Hey, Fitz."

"Yeah?" 

He didn't look up until she elbowed him, but when he did, it didn't take long for him to get it.

On the other side of the aisle Jemma was sleeping peacefully, slumped against the wall.

"All's fair in love and boring downtime?" Skye said.

With a grin Fitz reached into one of his his pockets and theatrically drew out a sharpie. 

"Absolutely. Would you join me in doing the honours?"

"I can't believe I'm getting paid for this," Skye said and started the creep across the aisle.

\--

**FEB 21ST 2008 // 0232 HRS // TOKYO // MISSION CODE: F3J7EH2**

 

"Is this the moment where I say I told you so?" Hill shouted, as a neon sign exploded in a hail of electronics. "Or the moment where I say 'hey, that hotwired Lotus would be pretty useful right now?'"

Melinda threw herself into the nearest doorframe with a grunt of displeasure. "The monster truck is always the better call."

She stepped back out into the alley, taking out the first assailant with a bullet between the eyes and the second with two rapid shots to the chest. "I'm surprised they didn't teach you that on your senior agents course."

Maria groaned, barrelling across the alley to take the other side. "The senior agents course is really more about dealing with junior agents. I'd say more, but I'd have to promote you."

"Please," Melinda said. "I'd make you all redundant by the end of the week."

A knife whistled past her ear, taking their kingpin between the eyes.

"Promises," Maria said, sounding smug. "Hey, you hear heli blades or is that just me?"

Melinda craned her head up just in time to catch sight of lights in the sky.

"Guess we've got a ride after all."

"So anyway, I was thinking we should do dinner sometime," Maria said, shouting to be heard over the descending rotors. "I've been renovating. Got them to stick a range in the back of my house."

"You ever heard the words more money than sense?" Melinda yelled back as she caught the rope and harness that came down.

"Oh come on. None of the guys in the office can really keep me on my toes."

"Flatterer," Melinda said, strapping herself up.

"Recluse," Maria shot back.

"Alright, fine, I'll check my schedule," Melinda allowed as she started to rise. "But don't get your hopes up."

\--

**OCT 19TH 2013 // 15:32 // MADAGASCAR // MISSION CODE: G7F921J**

 

"Sir, we have a problem."

Coulson's face flickered into life on the tiny hand-held screen and he nodded. "Go ahead, Agent Ward."

"It's Fitz," Grant said. "He's up a tree and he won't come down."

"I understand," Coulson said. "Do you see this as long term problem or something that might resolve itself in a few hours?"

"Well sir, May offered to shoot him down but he put the monkeys in front of him and went further up."

"The monkeys, Agent Ward?"

"Lemurs, sir. He's found a group of them and is now claiming he's on the site of his ancestral home."

Coulson raised both his eyebrows at once.

"Very good, sir," Grant said. "I'll scale the tree and bring him down myself."

"And Agent Ward?"

"Yes, sir?"

"No lemurs on the Bus."

"Absolutely, sir."

"Or underneath the Bus, or on-top of the Bus."

Grant nodded briskly.

"Or stowed with the food delivery or disguised in a flight suit."

"Yes sir."

"And no monkeys to be shipped to the Hub for analysis or training, either."

"Yes sir," Grant said. After a pause, he couldn't help but add: "Sir, is there a prior incident I should be made aware of?"

"I try not to think about it any more actually, Agent Ward," Coulson said. "So I think it's best if you don't either. Good luck."

\--

**DEC 19TH 2013 // 11:42 // THE BUS // MISSION CODE: 53CR37 5AN7A**

 

"Hey, Agent May," Skye said, slowly and carefully inching her way into the cockpit. "How's it going?"

May's fingers didn't even budge from all the panels, let alone wave to say hi or invite her in. Skye would have labelled it as a frosty welcome had it been anyone else, but it was May so she figured it was normal.

"I see you're not going to reply so I'll just -" she squeezed past some fancy-looking equipment to step a little closer. "Yeah, so, reason I'm here. I might have landed Coulson in the Secret Santa and I was kinda wondering if we could set down somewhere with a mall soon?"

It came out a little faster than she'd been expecting and she couldn't help but wince when May turned to look at her clinically.

"Maybe?" she added pitifully. "Please?"

"We don't set down for shopping trips," May said, then turned back to the horizon.

"Argh, but where am I meant to get him something if we never go near a mall?"

"We went near a mall in Atlanta, only twelve hours ago." 

Skye stared at her aghast, then gave up on being stoic and sank down in the second seat. "We were in Atlanta for 3 hours, max. And 2.9 of those hours were spent at the bottom of a pit watching Simmons watch nano worms. We didn't even have signal!."

May sighed, then made a big show of check some log-thing on the wall. 

"We're scheduled for a short landing and refuel around 2030 tomorrow. You could probably leave for awhile while we load up."

"Awesome," Skye said, clapping her hands. "Wait, where? And don't say Bumfuck, Florida because I am terrified of everything that lives in swamps."

"I'll let you know when we pull in."

"Um, you'll let me know?" Seriously? "What, are our pit stops classified now?"

She could've of sworn she saw May smile for a second, but then it was gone.

"Our flight path could change at any moment. There's no point organising a trip that may never happen."

"So I'll just have to sit on my hands for the next 42 hours in case we _might_ make a landing?"

"If you like."

"May!" Skye waved her hands in frustration. "How am I meant to do this? This is - this is total madness. What are the rest of you doing? Just gifting each other your socks?"

May flicked a switch above her head like she was on another planet and started moving some joystick half a millimetre to the left. Skye felt her brain start to ignite and melt everywhere.

"Fine! Fine. I'll just give him a yoyo or a chocolate scented candle or something."

"No candles on the plane," May said sharply. 

"Great. I guess it's a framed photo of Lola, then."

Where the frame was like, pasta shells or Coke ring tabs. God, she was going to have to commit hari-kiri after handing it over. She pulled herself out the chair and made for the door.

"Skye," Melinda called, as she was almost out.

"Yeah?"

"He already has the framed photo."

"Awesome," Skye said. "Socks it is."

\--

**JUNE 27TH 2013 // 0913 HRS // SHIELD TRAINING AREA - EXERCISE GREY WALRUS**

 

"If we don't make it out of this alive, then Fitz, I want you to know there's something I always meant to tell you."

"Guys," Grant said. "Guys, it's a training exercise."

"Yes, so you may say," Simmons said, her voice beginning to rise. "But the amount of water coming in through that hole is increasing exponentially! And as the water displaces the air we'll lose oxygen and as we lose oxygen we'll lose cognitive power and without cognitive power we can't try and plug the hole and if we don't plug the hole the water will never stop and we'll drown." She took a second to breathe. "Also we're chained to the wall."

"She's right," Fitz said. "How can you not understand this? I thought you said you'd had a basic education. Was that a lie like the thing when you said you were a marine animal?"

"A SEAL," Grant said, gritting his teeth. "I said I did SEAL training."

"It's sad how readily you lie to us, Agent Ward," Skye said, sounding anything but sad.

"Look, the only reason you can't find a record -"

"Is because one doesn't exist."

He gritted his teeth. "It was very hush-hush."

"Yeah, right," Fitz said.

"Come on, nobody does anything off-record these days, Ward."

"I do, Skye."

"You're such a dirty liar."

He pointed at her with as much slack as he could get from his chains.

"You need to stop hacking military servers in search of protected information."

"No, they need to start taking better precautions."

"We're going to drown," interrupted Simmons. "We're going to drown and our families won't even get compensation because we're too secret for them to ever know about."

"That's really not how it works."

"Don't try and rationalise the flooding of our lungs with cruel H2O. You may be a robot but we need our respiratory systems."

"Everything alright in there?" Coulson's amplified voice came over the speakers.

"Yes," said Grant just as Skye said 'no'.

"Please don't kill us, sir," Simmons said. "I'll try harder, I will. And I'll never write full formulas just to confuse you again."

"I just want to go home and see my equations," Fitz said. "The hoverbots are too young to be orphans."

"Oh my god, I got an arm free," Skye said. "No wait, it's just gone so numb I can't feel it."

"Is it too late to request a team transfer, sir?" Grant asked.

"I know you don't mean that, Agent Ward," Coulson said. "But yes."

-


End file.
